Man and I got to hang out with some wonderful friends from high school yesterday. As both are homeowners and parents of toddlers under one, conversation drifted between renovating basements and changing diapers.
Man got to witness his second, third and fourth diaper changes ever.
So after an enjoyable day, what do I dream about? A plethora of cloth diapers. More specifically, running around stores, and ones that normally wouldn't sell baby stuff, trying to find them.
Before Baby Otter, dreams were a rarity for me. If I had them, they were remembered once a year at most.
But for the past five months I wake up with weird images fresh in my mind. Like, being part of a club of people who ran along rooftops--which was illegal in that place. At one point we watched the police throw one of our friends off a five story roof. I woke up in the middle of our attempt to escape similar fate.
There was the hard boiled egg-peeling dream. Pretty short, pretty self-explanatory. Only it had the texture of cottage cheese inside.
I have also gone on an international vacation with my dad, sister, Man and my mom's best friend. Noticeably missing? My sister's husband and my mom. Their absence wasn't palpable until I woke up though.
Another odd one had me joining coworkers for happy hour in some high school gym. Next thing you know, my manager walks up to deliver drinks to those already there and take new drink orders.
Sprinkled amongst these are the obviously fear and worry induced nightmares. These, while infrequent, hover around the same theme: I lose Man in some way (bike and trolley accident, for one) and am thus overwhelmed with the realization that I have to take care of Baby Otter and pay our mortgage.
Needless to say, I can't wait for Baby Otter to join us in the real world so that I can get better sleep. I may wake up every three hours, but at least my imagination can shut down and rejoin the dreamless.
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